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Welcome Aboard the Lunar Veil. Behave or Be Jettisoned.
Captain Colton Keller looked around the bustling Space Bazaar Skyplex, and grunted. His face wore the pained expression of a man clear out of patience. He'd made this stop for this very same reason far too many times for his own liking, but good help it turns out was hard to find if you were paying decent wages. But without a good crew, you weren't going to find many willing to trust you with precious cargo. Hauling cow pucks wasn't gonna net enough to pay good the wages of a good crew, that much he knew first hand. They'd actually hauled half a ton at one point in his old ship. It'd taken weeks and a full carbon freeze to get the stink out his spaceship. Then his luck changed for the better. His war-time commanding officer up and died, leaving him the Lunar Veil, an Aught Four class Firefly transport ship. The beauty of the Firefly class wasn't aesthetic; it was in her durability and the ease of which she could be fixed, both important on long hauls. He loved the Veil. She didn't put on heirs and neither did he. Any passenger too fancy to step aboard wasn't welcome; they rarely fared well to begin with. "I hate this ruttin' Skyplex." He groused, pacing back and forth. If patience was a virtue, he was about as virtuous as a whore in church. "Aye, Sir." Lieutenant Thorne agreed, knowing agreeing was the path to least resistance. She stood at-ease and kept her eyes caged forward, a habit she'd kept from her days in the maritime academy; a protocol which went unnoticed by the Captain. "All we've ever picked up here are degenerates. What kind will we get this time?" Thorne raised an eyebrow, glancing towards him before fixing her eyes front and center again. She refrained from reminding him that this is where she'd first signed on a one year conscript of service to his ship. Several years, ships and crew changes later she was still flying for him. "I'm not sure, Sir." "Run down the list for me." "Again, Sir?" "Again." He made a spinning motion with his finger as she tried not to roll her eyes. She took an exasperated breath and ran down his list of requirements for anyone boarding the ship. "No robots. No unattended children. No attended children. No one under the age of 18. No one moonbrained (crazy). No Preachers unless they leave their preaching at the port. No 'fancible folk' who act like they never stunk up a latrine.” "Exception?" He quizzed, holding up a finger. "Fancible folk who don't act like they never stunk up a latrine.” The captain nodded and she continued. "No purple bellied Alliance soldiers.” (So called because of their purple armor. ) “No one rabbiting. No one you have or who has ended a relationship with you badly, no one you slept with and or married in a drunken stupor." "Anything else? "No gorram pets," She recited. "That one's on you." He reminded her. "What kind of Sha Gwa don't know a polecat's just another name for a skunk?" Lt. Thorne declined to defend herself over the polecat incident yet again. The captain wasn't letting the slip up be forgotten anytime soon. He considered all companion pets, cats, dogs, etc. vermin, wastes of valuable space and resources. Anything caught running around his ship would be jettisoned into the black. "Aye, Sir,” she replied. "Good. You know the drill. Anyone passes the initial interview, send them my way. I'm aimin' to find a crew worth its salt this go round." He tipped his ever present Stetson hat and climbed back aboard the ship. Thorne readied herself. Perhaps the Captain would be able to suss out a better crew if he relied on methods other than beggars trying to make a buck to get the word out. She straightened her beret and fell back into parade rest quickly. Above her head hung a shoddy hand painted sign: Welcome aboard the Lunar Veil